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If your boyfriend randomly reassures you that he isn’t cheating because he thought you assumed he was, should it be taken as him feeling some kind of guilt?

It would be a shock if he were. He could barely lie straight.

Not saying that was enough for him to remain faithful, but he didn’t seem the type to cheat.

Then again, I was pretty sure 80% of betrayed girlfriends had said the exact same thing before they got hit with a truth they never asked for.

“Is this some reverse psychology thing where you’re telling me not to worry because I should?”

His eyes widened. “Huh? No! I didn’t want you to feel like I kept it from you. That’s all it is, Sanj, I swear.”

“I thought the conversation was closed. You had the entire drive to say something, Ashton.”

And would you even have told me about it if I hadn’t seen you on the phone earlier? I wondered silently.

“Hey.” He reached across the console again, his hand brushing over my knee. “I don’t want to fight about this, and I don’t want you to be upset.”

Lord help me.

“We aren’t fighting, and I’m not upset.” I paused, “We’re simply… not doing great at communicating right now.”

He pulled a face. “That’s one way to put it.”

“You know she doesn’t like me, right?” I made it known, just in case he was under some illusion about where I stood with this girl.

He looked over and smiled. “I like you. That’s what matters, right?”

Right.

Freaking idiot.

I opened the door and stepped out of the car without saying another word.

He quickly did the same, coming around to take my hand, looking down at me, which wasn’t a feat, seeing as there were a whole 2-3 inches between us, like that would smooth everything over.

I didn’t want him touching me right then, but I also wasn’t going to make a scene in the middle of campus. People were already starting to look.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I won’t talk to her anymore, okay? I can text her right now and let her know you’re not comfortable with us being in contact.”

“Oh, my God. You’re not doing that.”

He stopped, his brows knitting together. “Then tell me what you want me to do, Sanj.”

His voice carried that clipped, restrained edge he used when he didn’t want to argue but was doing it anyway, and it grated against my already fraying nerves.

“I don’t know,” I muttered, rubbing the heel of my palm against the ache building between my brows. “Can we not do this right now?”

He nodded, jaw tight, and we kept walking.

His hand was still in mine, but it was more performance than a comfort.

With silence stretching between us, we crossed through the main walkway toward the quad.

Cool air brushed my face, carrying the first bite of fall.

Clouds drifted across the sky like gauze, softening the light and casting the old stone buildings in a golden haze.

Crowsfell’s campus had the kind of elegance that belonged to another century.

Even the remodeled sports complex echoed the original architecture, using the bones to construct.

Warm, brown-stone colored, standing tall and proud, with dramatic arches and cathedral windows that caught the light just right.

At night, the paths were lit by the black, wrought-iron lamps that lined them.

It all looked like something out of a film, too perfect to be real, but beneath the polished facade, many stories had been buried here, never quite forgotten.

I spotted Roxxi, Arianna, Cloe, and Layla first, all crowded together and laughing at something one of the guys said.

Roxxi caught my eye and waved, and I started toward them, the warmth of their smiles pulling me in.

Before I could fully settle into their energy, my gaze drifted like it always did, to the other half of my center.

He looked annoyingly well-rested despite getting less sleep than I did.

I knew he had an ungodly early class on Tuesdays and never skipped his workouts afterward.

As we got closer, something twisted low in my stomach.

A flutter that wasn’t even close to innocent.

It was happening more often than I wanted to admit and was impossible to ignore.

When his pretty eyes met mine and a slow, crooked smile slid across his face, my heart stuttered.

I forced myself to look away and focus on the girls, but the damage was already done.

Last night’s phone call, the things he’d texted—all of it came rushing back, dragging along the core memory of his mouth on mine.

It had been months.

Months since that night, and pretending it never happened. Months since one kiss shattered every defense I’d spent years perfecting. Then, in true Sanjana fashion, I fucked everything up even more by getting with Ashton.

A therapist would have a field day dissecting the mess I’d made of my relationships. But hey, at least I was self-aware. Now, every day was a master class in pretending I wasn’t caught between one more reckless decision and the fallout waiting to blow up in my face.

Intent, as I was not staring at him, Ryder knew exactly how to capture my attention.

The sneaky asshole lifted a brown paper bag and a cup with a familiar logo stamped on the side.

Hemlock & Bean. The only decent coffee shop within ten miles of campus and home to my personal brand of liquid gold.

Ryder only drank it when he was with me, and even then, he complained it tasted like straight-up diabetes.

My eyes locked onto it like a woman starved.

I dropped Ashton’s hand without thinking twice and sped up, practically tasting the caramel drizzle already.

Ryder clocked me coming and dared to laugh, holding the cup just out of reach as I approached with grabby hands, ignoring everyone else for the beautiful, life-giving espresso that awaited me.

“Aht aht,” he teased, lifting the cup higher, effortlessly dangling it above my head. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” I oozed, extra sweet.

“Thank you…?”

“Thank you, Rye. You’re the best.”

“Best what?”

“Best pain in my ass,” I laughed.

His grin widened. “Close enough.” He lowered the cup just enough for me to snatch it like a prize, his fingers grazing mine.

“Straw?” He pulled one from his jacket pocket and opened it for me, holding it out like a peace offering.

“I hate how well you know me,” I muttered.

“I know. That’s what makes this so fun.”

I stabbed the straw through the domed lid and took a long sip. The first hit of caramel-drizzled espresso and oat milk had me closing my eyes with a quiet hum, like the caffeine was infusing my veins with holy purpose.

“Mm. So good.”

“Now I get to be jealous of a drink,” Roxxi complained jokingly.

I laughed and finally turned to the rest of our friends. None of them were remotely surprised by my and Ryder’s interaction.

“Hi, guys.”

Nick was the first to reply, catching my eye with a lazy grin.

His usual laid-back style was in full effect.

His signature beanie instead of one of his caps.

A hoodie beneath his letterman jacket that resembled Ryder’s, black and silver with the Crowsfell crest stitched across the chest and his team number embroidered.

The heavy fabric stretched over his broad shoulders, the sleeves pushed up just enough to show a glimpse of the ink he had on his left arm.

It wasn’t hard to see why girls loved him.

Besides the fact that even in a crowd, Nick had a magnetism that made it impossible not to notice when he walked into a room, he had an effortless model-off-duty appearance.

He was an inch or two taller than Ryder, and a little less muscular but still built.

He had flawless light-brown skin and defined features with a jaw that could cut glass.

He was sporting a faint bruise this morning. One he had to of gotten either right before or after hockey practice, because he didn’t have it when I saw him earlier in the day.

“Morning, Sanj.”

“Morning, Captain,” I shot back.

His smile turned boyish, and I let it go without teasing.

He’d earned his position on the hockey team fair and square.

I loved seeing how proud that made him. Nick had been around since I was still in pull-ups.

His parents brought him over to play one day, and it felt like he never left.

He was the first of Ryder and Cade’s friends outside our trio that I got to know.

I glanced around, noting the absence of one particular Voss brother and Rook. “Where’s Cade and Rook?”

“Rook ran back to the house for something,” Cloe answered, adjusting the strap of her oversized bag that looked more like a briefcase. “And Cade had an early meeting with a peer.”

She said it with so much sarcasm I didn’t need a translator. I could read between the lines.

Roxxi scoffed. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“It’s important to exercise the brain,” Xander reasoned, still scrolling through his phone.

Xander was all clean lines and easy confidence.

With buzzed dark hair, a warm tan complexion, and cheekbones to die for, he had a way of pulling attention without asking for it.

His small earrings and the silver chain resting against the collar of his crewneck sweatshirt added just enough edge to his laid-back, minimalist style.

Xan was quieter than the other guys, but not in a broody-mysterious way like Rook.